


kiss me once, kiss me twice (three times 'cause i waited my whole life)

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Jihoon/Mingyu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There are certain things from your past that will eventually come back to haunt you. Like punching your 3rd grade classmate, for example.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 43
Kudos: 240





	kiss me once, kiss me twice (three times 'cause i waited my whole life)

**Author's Note:**

> title from paper rings by taylor swift
> 
> this fic has been translated to [chinese](https://m.weibo.cn/7439661190/4548731485818968) by [LoveIsNever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNever/pseuds/LoveIsNever)

They’re halfway to the bed when it happens. Clothes haphazardly strewn to the floor, hands quick and almost frantic. Soonyoung pushes him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and they fall together gracelessly, exhaling breathless laughter against each other’s mouths. “You know, I feel like we’ve met before,” he mutters against Soonyoung’s smile.

“No need to use pick-up lines,” Soonyoung snorts, ducking to mouth along his collarbones. “I’m already in bed with you.”

“No really,” he says, and his voice trails to a shaky breath as Soonyoung trails sneaky fingers to his waistband. “I feel like I know you or something. What did you say your name was again? Hiashi?”

“Need to know what to scream?” Soonyoung smirks, hands slipping under fabric, revelling in the way the other guy’s eyes flutter close. “ _Hoshi_ is the name I use as a choreographer. You can call me Soonyoung.”

His eyes fly open. Glassy, dazed. And he swallows on nothing a few more times, mouth floundering like he’s trying to formulate words but he can’t at the way Soonyoung’s already stroking him slow, fingernails catching on the head. “Soonyoung,” he half-says, half-groans.

Soonyoung hums, surging up to kiss him again. He groans against Soonyoung’s mouth again when Soonyoung bites his lip hard and flicks his wrist _that_ way at the same time, and Soonyoung has to hide the smug smile forming on his lips by kissing up on the other’s neck, trying to ignore the concentrated heat pooling underneath his belly. “Soonyoung,” he breathes again, “did you perhaps go to Maseok Elementary School?”

Soonyoung halts, lips still against his skin. “What?”

“Did you use a Naruto umbrella as a kid? And became the school representative for taekwondo? And got suspended for two weeks for punching a classmate in 3rd grade?” the guy asks in between quick breaths, like he’s closing to laughing and like Soonyoung doesn’t have a hand on his dick, and Soonyoung realizes he doesn’t even know this guy, doesn’t even know his _name_ , and yet he’s talking about Soonyoung’s childhood like he’d been there to witness it. Unless, of course—

“Wait,” Soonyoung says, blindly reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. He detaches himself from the guy's upper body and sits up a little to take a better look as the light flickers on. Amused eyes stare back, kiss-marked mouth pursed and he _is_ trying hard not to laugh. Like he’s not still fucking rock hard and Soonyoung can still feel him underneath. “Wait a second,” Soonyoung says, eyes narrowed, “who the hell are you?”

“It’s me. Jeon Wonwoo from 3rd grade?” he smiles, nose scrunched and playful. “Class nerd, bento boxes for lunch. The one with the glasses?” His smile widens, making him look painfully attractive and _fuck_ , Soonyoung’s trying to erase that thought from his mind, trying not to think with his dick, because it’s weird finding someone good-looking when that someone is— “I’m the classmate you punched, do you remember? I’d be really offended if you’ve already forgotten about that.”

(This is how it happened: they’re nine years old and irrational and stupid, especially Soonyoung. Wonwoo’s family moved a lot because of his father’s work and Maseok’s one of the many towns they’d moved into. Naturally, they don’t last long there, only staying for a whole school year and everyone forgets about them eventually but that’s not the point. The point is that at the time, Wonwoo’s the new kid. And that Soonyoung—in Jihoon’s words—is a loud, annoyingly friendly kid who has the constant urge to befriend everyone.

The point is that Wonwoo is new but it doesn’t mean he’s interested in making new friends. And that it’s been three weeks of Soonyoung’s efforts of trying to befriend the other boy yet Wonwoo still hasn’t budged. And of course, when all efforts fail, what else is left to do?

The story circulates in the whole school for a month before simmering down: apparently, Kwon Soonyoung had walked to Jeon Wonwoo’s desk during lunch and punched him sound and square on the face like how he’d been taught in after school Taekwondo classes. According to witnesses, Wonwoo’s bento box flew along with Wonwoo, scattering a whole ocean of rice and green peas on the floor. According to their teacher the next day, Wonwoo had to get stitches on his cheek and lip.

And according to rumours, Soonyoung didn’t regret it at all. Not a single thing.)

They’re entirely wrong about the last part because Soonyoung regrets it. With his whole heart. His father and the principal and his taekwondo teacher—Mr. Baek—made sure of that. And Soonyoung points this out as Wonwoo goes down on him but apparently, that’s a bad idea. They stop because Wonwoo can’t stop laughing. And Soonyoung can’t help but feel embarrassed. Not when Wonwoo’s laughing against his neck, on his skin as he trails down his body, and on Soonyoung’s thigh as Soonyoung groans not because of Wonwoo biting down on him (though that _is_ a big factor too) but because memories of the whole thing keep flooding to his mind. Soonyoung’s face contorts when Wonwoo directs his fingers to where he said he had to get stitches. Expression exasperated and pained, like the mere thought of the incident burns him like fire.

“I can’t believe this,” Soonyoung mutters when they both agree on stopping and as Wonwoo settles on the pillow beside him, still giggling. “Of all the people I had to take home tonight, I can’t believe it has to be Jeon Wonwoo from 3rd grade who didn’t even talk to me or acknowledge me for a whole year.”

Wonwoo laughs louder. “Hey, you punched me! I had every right to hate you and ignore you!”

“You ignored me even before that!” Soonyoung exclaims, defensive. “I tried to befriend you but you never acknowledged my efforts!”

“Maybe if you talked to me like a normal person then we would’ve been friends,” Wonwoo says, looking at him as Soonyoung rolls over to face him. “But _no_ , you had to steal food from my bento boxes and hide my pencils and told me I looked funny with my glasses.”

Soonyoung winces. “Well, okay, I _might’ve_ been a bit extreme with my methods but I did it all to get closer to you, I swear.”

“ _Might’ve_?” Wonwoo says drily.

“My best friend thinks I was dropped on the head as a baby,” Soonyoung says in weird compromise, and Wonwoo snorts out a surprised laughter. “I’m not saying it’s true but I’m saying that the theory is a possible explanation to how I acted.” His gaze trail Wonwoo’s face—his eyes, the slope of his nose, his mouth. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything, just suddenly sits up like he has business and lets his feet fall to the floor. Instinctively, Soonyoung reaches out to him like a lifeline, fingers touching his spine and landing on the small of his back. He carefully asks, “Wait, where are you going? You can still stay the night, if you want to.”

Wonwoo turns to him, taking his hand. He says, “I’d love to, Soonyoung-ah, but,” Soonyoung unconsciously tightens his hold at that, face already beginning to fall in disappointment until Wonwoo continues, “I have to get my contacts off if I don’t want my eyes to bleed out in the morning. Can you point me to the bathroom?”

Soonyoung breathes out in strange relief. “First door by the left when you step inside of the room.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo says, squeezing his hand. In a soft, teasing voice, he says, “You can let go of me now.”

Soonyoung realizes, lets go of Wonwoo’s hand like they’re blistering. “Whatever,” he says, gritting his teeth at the way Wonwoo’s still grinning. “Whatever! I hate you, do you know that?”

“Believe me, I know,” Wonwoo drawls out, standing up. Soonyoung realizes belatedly that they’ve never even closed the curtains, Seoul still in whole display on the wide windows. It’s dark but the whole city illuminates Wonwoo’s smile directed to him. “You made sure of that when you punched me in 3rd grade and sent me to the hospital for a week. How could I forget?”

His laughter echoes throughout the whole hotel room as he dodges the pillow Soonyoung throws at him. Soonyoung sports a wide grin of his own too, smile automatic, and he tucks it against the blankets that still smell like Wonwoo with a loud, exasperated sigh like the smile will somehow go away.

The next morning, there are blue-lilac marks on Wonwoo’s neck which Soonyoung can’t help but linger his eyes on. There are also black specs sitting on his nose, framing his eyes. Wonwoo pads across the carpeted floor right to the mountains of bento box type take-outs stacked on the table. Eyes droopy, he sits across Soonyoung and drops his head next to the Sprite.

“Not a morning person?” Soonyoung quips, moving the Sprite to a safer place. “I didn’t know what you wanted so I got you bento boxes from a Japanese restaurant a block away. You know, for old times’ sake.”

Wonwoo lifts his head, snorting. “Finally. Paying back for what you owe after all these years.”

“A little thank you would be nice,” Soonyoung snarks, reaching for his own bento. Wonwoo huffs out a laughter, hair sticking out wildly that makes Soonyoung wants to mess it up more. With herculean effort, he pushes the unnecessary thought away and breaks his chopsticks. “Thank you,” Wonwoo says, anyway, as he opens his own box. “You didn’t have to buy breakfast for me.”

“Nah, it’s no big deal,” Soonyoung says. “Besides, I’m trying to prove that I wasn’t dropped in the head as a kid like Jihoon suggests. I still have a bit of decency.”

“Jihoon?”

“Yeah, he’s the best friend I was referring to last night,” Soonyoung says, chewing around a mouthful of teriyaki chicken. “Lee Jihoon? Small, mean kid from Class B? We weren’t classmates with him then and he was plenty quiet so I’m not sure if you remember him.”

“Oh, I remember him,” Wonwoo says, then he frowns. “I think.”

“Yeah, well Jihoon and I got closer when you left,” Soonyoung explains. “And we also went to the same university later on. Hey, do you know he’s still small and mean?”

Wonwoo laughs. “Small—like, his height?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung grins, “but don’t point that out when you meet him. He’s small but even _I’m_ not dumb enough to mess with him.”

“You have a black belt in Taekwondo though?”

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung says seriously, “can throw a very, very mean punch when he wants to. And trust me, if you mess with him, he _will_ want to. Don’t underestimate him. Besides, it’s been years since I’ve practiced Taekwondo. I dance now.”

Wonwoo swallows down a spoonful of rice. “Oh right, you mentioned that,” he snorts, hooking his fingers to his can which opens with a hiss. “If you’d have given me your real name instead of your choreographer name the first time then we would’ve pieced things together immediately. Instead, you gave me—” he frowns, “uh, I keep forgetting. I think it starts with an H. You gave me—"

“A hickey?” Soonyoung suggests drily, watching in repressed amusement as Wonwoo spits out his drink. His lack of filter would embarrass him but he’s too pleased about Wonwoo’s reaction now to register the embarrassment.

Wonwoo pounds on his chest, hacking violently. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things,” Soonyoung says, smile wry. “We’d spend a whole day in this hotel room if I listed everything down.”

It’s a joke but even if they did, it’s not that they can anyway when Soonyoung is supposed to check out by noon time. He’d headed straight to this hotel yesterday afternoon from the airport, still feeling Tokyo air around him everywhere he goes. It’s hard not to—especially when he’d lived there for a while, choreographing for J-pop groups, and it’s been almost two years but now he’s back in Korea for good. He hadn’t been planning for a hook-up—or for anything at all last night—but somehow he’d found himself in the hotel’s rooftop bar where Wonwoo had wound down last night after a meeting. Everything’s coincidental, really. 

For the next few hours, they relearn each other. Catching up, as what most people would say. Wonwoo—he finds out—now works as an analyst of some sort at the city planner’s office, drafting maps and GIS systems and all that technological jazz Soonyoung won’t even pretend he understands. He owns three cats and a condo unit in the outskirts of Seoul. Apparently, he’d moved to Seoksan after Maseok, then Anyang, then Jeju for a quick six months, until they’d finally settled somewhere in Seoul. 

“And we’ve never even crossed paths until now,” Soonyoung says, looking outside the window—everything under the sun already awake and bustling and loud. Seoul is a big, big city.

“Didn’t you say you just came back from Japan?”

“Yeah, I worked there for like two years. Dropped out during my final year in uni and accepted a choreographing stint,” Soonyoung says, looking back at Wonwoo. _A big city but I still managed to find you_. “It was a bad choice at first, I admit, but it got better eventually.”

“And now you’re moving back to Korea.”

“Jihoon hooked me up with the company he composes songs for,” Soonyoung says. “It was a good offer, I couldn’t resist.” He stands up, suddenly realizing the time. “Anyway, we need to pack up soon and check out.”

Wonwoo properly sits up from where he’d been leaning back on the couch. “Where are you headed to after?”

“My parents just came from a trip to Jeju so… Incheon Airport and then straight to my house,” Soonyoung says, already starting to pick up his things from the table. Wonwoo stands up to help him pick clothes off the floor. “They have the keys, and it’s my first time seeing the house this afternoon.”

“How are you going to get to the airport?”

“Taxi?” Soonyoung says, opening his travesty of a luggage to stuff his things in and the clothes Wonwoo is sending his way. When he reaches out for another clothing, nothing comes. He turns to see Wonwoo quiet, contemplating, and Soonyoung opens his mouth to ask why but is cut off by: “I could drive you, if you want.”

Soonyoung blinks. “What?”

“I could drive you,” Wonwoo says, looking down, “to the airport. I need to be somewhere, anyway. I’m not going straight home.”

“And where do you need to be?”

“The supermarket. I need to get groceries.”

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung starts, “I’m sure if you look it up, there’s probably a supermarket two, three blocks away from here. Incheon is an hour away.”

“It’s fine,” Wonwoo says. “Besides, didn’t you complain about moving around and having to commute with luggage last night?”

Soonyoung stares at him but Wonwoo’s still not looking, gaze on the clothes he’s helping Soonyoung pack. When he finally looks up, catching Soonyoung’s eyes, Soonyoung feels something in his chest pull, and he sighs because he knows he’s already lost the fight. “Okay, fine,” he says. “But first, luggage. Then shower. Then we leave.”

“So you weren’t kidding this morning,” Wonwoo starts, voice carrying out to the room, “When you said you gave me a hickey.”

When he steps outside the bedroom to where Soonyoung’s waiting with the luggage, he’s wearing a contained expression on his face. He has on last night’s jeans, dripping water from his hair to _Soonyoung_ ’s shirt, and the hickey on his neck that _Soonyoung_ put there is still loud and colored as ever. Soonyoung mentalizes a few unattractive things (octopuses, crying babies with snot, his blackmail picture of Mingyu) to tamper down the taunting thoughts in his mind.

“Well, y’know. Just telling the truth,” Soonyoung says, forcing out a laugh.

(When Soonyoung came back to school after the two-week suspension, he found out that Wonwoo had befriended anyone that isn’t loud, violent, and who didn’t send him to the hospital for stitches—in short, he had befriended anyone that isn’t Kwon Soonyoung. One teacher—a fresh graduate with a chirpy voice and starry-eyed idealism—decided to, and Soonyoung quotes, “ _settle things amicably and gracefully_ ” by setting them as partners for gardening class because she believed that, and Soonyoung quotes again, “ _these boys only need two things: plants and time together_.”

Because apparently two kids who hate each other + a bean sprout = peace, right? Indisputable math.

There was a good reason why she was the gardening teacher and not the math teacher—that’s all Soonyoung has to say about the whole thing.)

Soonyoung’s parents’ flight has been delayed for another hour so they decide to get Wonwoo’s groceries first in a supermarket down the highway to Incheon. Ten minutes in, Soonyoung decides to bring up the bean sprout issue. Apparently, that’s a bad idea because an argument breaks out with the powdered coffee and milk packs as witnesses. A rough transcript of the fight is presented as follows:

“—didn’t kill the sprout, you did! If you hadn’t been acting brooding and uncooperative then I wouldn’t have been pissed—”

“Two stitches, Soonyoung! _Two stitches_! I was only nine! I had every right to be _brooding_ and _uncooperative_ —”

“But did you really have to pick a fight in the middle of gardening class? We were both holding a delicate sprout, for God’s sake—”

“—sprout that _you_ killed. I’m not the one who dropped it—”

“Yes, you did! You let go first—”

“No, I didn’t! It slipped from my fingers because _you_ pushed me—”

An old lady with a squeaking cart passes by. They stop arguing when they catch her giving them a startled look. “Sorry,” Wonwoo winces, hand on Soonyoung’s head, guiding them both to a polite bow. “He has a temper. Please—don’t mind us and carry on.” When she leaves, she leaves with the same startled look with an additional two packs of powdered milk in her hands. They offer an apologetic bow to the air again.

Wonwoo turns to him. “Can we just both agree that it was just one of Ms. Na’s terrible ideas?”

“Good intention, terrible intervention skills,” Soonyoung laughs and Wonwoo laughs with him and it’s easy because they’re not stupid nine-year-old kids anymore. For a brief moment, he wonders what it would’ve been like: successfully befriending Wonwoo before, keeping in touch ‘till they were teens. So much missed opportunities, so much lost time—all because of their stupidity. But he realizes there are just some things that you can’t control, and the fact that they still managed to meet later in life must mean something at least.

Wonwoo’s already starting to talk about something funny he experienced in college, and he’s virtually a stranger now if he thinks about it—God, it’s been sixteen years—but he looks so, so familiar under the lights like this. Soonyoung listens, swallows up every information. Wonwoo guides the cart forward, and Soonyoung pushes, following.

Wonwoo buys two weeks’ worth of groceries which he stacks in the backseat because the compartment is filled with Soonyoung’s luggage. When they pull up at the airport, an apple rolls from the grocery bag to the car floor. No one picks it up.

“So,” Wonwoo says, “we’re here.”

“We are,” Soonyoung says, hands coming up to unbuckle his seatbelt, then hesitating. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. Do you need help with the luggage?”

Soonyoung shakes his head. “I can manage.” He clutches the seatbelt, still buckled, then jerks as he remembers. Slightly lifting his hips, he fishes out his phone from his back pocket, hands it to Wonwoo with an uncertain chuckle. “Your number. Or your Kakaotalk. Or your Line. Or—anything really. Instagram?” He babbles and pretends not to notice Wonwoo’s smile widening at every word. “I don’t have that but I can make, like, an account or something. Or steal Jihoon’s.”

Wonwoo hands him the phone back. “I don’t have an Instagram account too, don’t worry.”

“Oh thank God,” Soonyoung says. When he checks, there’s a new contact on his phone named _Wonwoo didn’t kill the sprout_ and his lips lift. “Whenever I tell someone I don’t have Instagram they look at me like I’ve grown a second head. It’s just—I don’t understand the whole thing, you know?”

Wonwoo laughs. “Yeah, I know. I’m flattered you’d make one for me though.”

“Yeah, well.” Soonyoung shrugs, rubbing the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll call you tonight. Or tomorrow. Or whenever you want me to, I don’t want to impose.”

“Tonight sounds okay,” Wonwoo smiles, and they both look behind them when a car honks loudly. Soonyoung sighs. “I think you really need to get your luggage now.”

“Ugh, fuck. Alright.” Soonyoung finally unbuckles his seatbelt, slides out of the car. It takes him a few gruelling seconds to haul the two huge, ugly things out of the compartment and roll them right by the driver’s side window, where it’s already open and has Wonwoo’s face sticking out. “So,” Soonyoung says. “This is goodbye.”

“For now.”

“For now,” Soonyoung echoes, and it sounds like a promise. The same car behind honks again, and Soonyoung does his best not to yell out a few colourful words Jihoon-style, sighing loudly instead. “Okay. You should go now.” Wonwoo’s still looking up at him from the window with a flicker in his eyes and _fuck_ — “Please, Wonwoo-yah, leave. Roll up your windows and go before I do something stupid.”

“Something like?” Wonwoo asks in a tone that suggests he _definitely_ knows what that something is. He’s smiling—a hundred percent teasing—and he really shouldn’t be allowed to do that because Soonyoung’s a man with weak resolve. “Just—something,” he says, closing his eyes. “Please. Go. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo says, so peaceably it makes Soonyoung want to yell. “Bye, Soonyoung.”

“Bye,” he says, faint, and watches Wonwoo roll the windows up and drive the car away. He watches, until the car disappears in the traffic—to the big, big city that separated them and decided to line up the avenues and streets and alleys sixteen years later to somehow let them meet again.

Soonyoung _does_ call and Wonwoo _does_ pick up. Listening to Wonwoo talk through static, he realizes it feels a little like realignment. Like tripping on your feet and seeing a four-leaf clover on the ground where you’d landed. Like finding a lost item you've forgotten about under your bed. Like forgetting and then remembering, all over again.

Soonyoung and Jihoon meet up at a café in Seoul—wooden and familiar and housing three years worth of memory back from when they were still in college. When Jihoon arrives, Soonyoung ignores all non-verbal signs Jihoon sends his way to _please, don’t yell. act normally and don’t pick me up from the floor_ and strides in big, big steps from their table to his best friend. “Jihoonie!” he yells, picking him up and spinning him around. “I missed you so much!”

“Put me down!” Jihoon hisses.

“Not unless you say you miss me too!”

“Fuck, fine! Alright! I missed you too,” Jihoon yells, pained and embarrassed, and when Soonyoung puts him down he has the reddest face and a scowl on. “You’ve only been here for a day but I already wish that you were back in Japan.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Jihoon-ah,” Soonyoung grins, directing him to their table with a heavy arm around his shoulders. There’s food laid down on the table already—the same thing they always ordered as college students. “Have you told the others about the housewarming party already?”

“Ugh, I don’t know why you’re leaving the PR task to me,” Jihoon says, face sour but the sight of cake magically lights up his face.

“It was your idea!”

“It was Mingyu’s idea,” Jihoon corrects, already sticking a fork to the chocolate cake. “I just relayed the idea to you.”

Soonyoung picks up a fork of his own. “Well then tell Mingyu to spread the word, then.”

“I don’t understand how you don’t just do it yourself,” Jihoon says. “You had plenty of down time in the hotel after your flight.”

Soonyoung’s mind traitorously flashes to the image of Wonwoo between the sheets. “Yeah, well.” Clearing his throat, he says in what he hopes is a casual voice: “Anyway, I met Jeon Wonwoo again yesterday.”

Jihoon doesn’t even look from his cake. “Who?”

“You know, Jeon Wonwoo from 3rdgrade?” Soonyoung says. “Thin, lanky kid? The one with glasses?”

Jihoon blinks up at him.

Soonyoung sighs. “The kid I punched in the face?”

Jihoon’s face lights up, remembering. “Oh!” he says, voice bordering on delighted. Concerning, considering that it only does when they’re 1) talking about music or 2) talking about violence. “Oh, _that_ Jeon Wonwoo! Where’d—how’d you meet him?”

“Um, at the hotel’s rooftop bar?” Soonyoung says. “He had a meeting in the hotel’s conference room earlier in the evening and wanted to wind down. I was bored so I decided to get a couple of drinks. We recognized each other and then talked.”

Jihoon swallows slow. “Talked.”

“Yeah. We just talked,” Soonyoung says, taking a sip of his milk tea like that’ll somehow wash out the lie. “Well anyway, he works at the city planner’s office now. Like, an analyst or something. He drove me to the airport to pick up my parents.”

“I see.” Jihoon nods. “Is he coming?”

“What?”

“Y’know, to your _housewarming_ party?”

“Oh.” Soonyoung clears his throat, checks his phone. Puts it face down. He says, “I don’t know. I haven’t really asked him.”

“Oh. Okay,” Jihoon says, then proceeds to eats his cake like he hadn’t given Soonyoung something to chew on for the next five hours.

**_from: soonyoung_ **

**_to: wonwoo didn’t kill the sprout_ **

_Sent 7:45PM_

hey. my friends are helping me throw a housewarming party friday night and i was wondering if you wanted to come???

**_from: wonwoo didn’t kill the sprout_ **

**_to: soonyoung_ **

_Sent 7:55PM_

Ah…. well I have a meeting with a client around that time

**_from: soonyoung_ **

**_to: wonwoo didn’t kill the sprout_ **

_Sent 7:58PM_

well that’s okay

i’ll see you when i see you i guess

**_from: wonwoo didn’t kill the sprout_ **

**_to: soonyoung_ **

_Sent 8:00PM_

Text me the address. I’ll see if I can come, okay?

Mingyu has decided to call it a _homecoming_ party in an offhanded effort to sound fancy and relevant. Technically, it’s still a housewarming party—there’s the late (& unnecessary, according to Jihoon) ribbon-cutting ceremony, a family-friendly refreshments table, and the two types of crowds which are the appliance-giving people and the plant-giving people. Soonyoung’s yet to know which one of the two Wonwoo falls in—if he’s even coming, if he falls in any category at all. He tries not to think about it as he welcomes his friends to his house, half giving him hugs and the other half hitting him in various parts of the body for taking too long to finally come back home. Ten minutes into the party, half the hors d’oeuvre plates are already empty. Sometimes he forgets his friends act like they haven’t been fed their whole life most of the time.

Chatter trickles out from every corner of the room, like crawling leaves of the gift-plants aligned neatly on the kitchen counter. Seungkwan and Chan stick to him like superglue for ten minutes before leaving to bother a newly-arrived Joshua who hands him the fourth house plant Soonyoung has received tonight. He accepts it with a big smile nevertheless and retreats to the couch after placing it next to its kin. Someone’s Spotify party mix (given the amount of Wonder Girls, Seungkwan’s probably) is playing through the speakers.

“Just thought you should know that two people are planning to revolt through mixing soju in the refreshments table outside,” Jihoon says to him, head tilted to the ceiling, a drink (not an alcoholic one, hopefully) on his hand. “I’m not gonna say who they are but one’s tall and dumb and the other one’s Chinese and has a mullet.”

“Mingyu and Minghao?” Soonyoung says, voice rising to a whine. “Ugh, didn’t I make it clear that I didn’t want any hard drinks tonight?”

“Soju’s barely a hard drink if you’re a good drinker,” Jun offers unhelpfully from the other side of the couch. Soonyoung huffs. “What? I’m just saying.”

“I’m not cleaning any vomit on the carpet or in my front lawn tonight,” Soonyoung says, turning to Jihoon. “C’mon, Jihoonie, can you please tell them off?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “They’re not gonna listen to me.”

“You’re older than them!”

“So are you!”

“You’re scary and intimidating!”

Jihoon snorts. “Well, now you’re just pushing it.”

“It’s true!” Jihoon remains undeterred. “Well—you’re dating Mingyu!”

“Your point?” Jihoon says, annoyed. When Soonyoung sinks himself lower to the couch, drawling out another whine again, Jihoon sighs in exasperation. “Fine, fine! I’ll talk to Mingyu but I don’t guarantee anything about Minghao.”

Soonyoung presses a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my favorite, Jihoonie.”

“And sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” Jihoon murmurs, but he leaves to find his tall and dumb boyfriend anyway. During the whole span of Jihoon’s absence, Soonyoung emcees a heated battle between Seungcheol and Seokmin on who can eat the most corianders (Seokmin wins; disgusting), receives a very detailed primer on how to take care of each house plant from Joshua, and narrowly avoids getting scammed by Jeonghan into ordering more food and paying for it himself instead of splitting the bill. Six Wonder Girls songs later, Jihoon finally comes back.

“Look at what I found in the front lawn,” he says.

Soonyoung looks at the three boxes of take-out chicken Jihoon plops on the center table. “I didn’t order this,” he announces but everyone’s already starting to crowd around it anyway. “What the hell? I didn’t order that—Jeonghan-hyung, I love you, but I swear to God—”

“It’s not Jeonghan-hyung,” Jihoon says. “Don’t worry, the chicken came with the owner.” And right on cue Wonwoo appears behind him with Mingyu in tow. All the question marks in Soonyoung’s head straighten to exclamation points the minute he sees Wonwoo’s face.

“Hi,” Wonwoo says, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Sorry I’m late. I didn’t have time to get you a housewarming gift so I bought food instead.”

“Hyung, I didn’t know you knew Wonwoo-hyung,” Mingyu says from beside Jihoon, already munching a chicken leg on his own. “Found his car wandering in the neighbourhood when I was on the way to the convenience store to uh, buy something with Minghao and we brought him here when I found out he was coming to your party too.”

To Wonwoo, Soonyoung says, “I texted you the address?”

“Yeah, well, my phone died so,” Wonwoo laughs, rubbing his nape. “I could only remember the name of the neighbourhood and not the house number.”

To Mingyu, Soonyoung asks, “How do you know Wonwoo?”

“Firm’s got close ties with the city planning office,” Mingyu explains, absentmindedly feeding Jihoon chicken skin which Jihoon would normally grimace at but it’s Mingyu. So. “We’ve consulted him several times about our projects. He’s pretty close to our team.”

“You shouldn’t have come if you didn’t have the address,” Soonyoung chides, facing Wonwoo. “You would’ve been lost if Mingyu didn’t see you.”

“It’s fine, Soon—”

“Did you buy this chicken?” Jeonghan quips suddenly, appearing behind them. Wonwoo startles at being cut off but nods anyway. “Hey, Wonwoo is it? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jeonghan, by the way. Thanks for the chicken. I wanted to order some earlier but _someone_ —” he raises an eyebrow at Soonyoung, “was being a spoil-sport.”

“I said I’d agree if we split the bill!” Soonyoung protests.

“Hi, I’m Chan!” Chan says but he’s got food filling up both his cheeks so it comes out as _hi om cham!_. Nevertheless, Wonwoo smiles politely. With alarming speed, Chan swallows it all down and asks, “How do you know Soonyoung-hyung?”

The exclamation points are back in Soonyoung’s head again. “Um,” Wonwoo says, looking at Soonyoung as if he’s deciding which story to tell, trying to decipher the panicked look Soonyoung is sending his way. “He, um, he punched me in the face once.”

From beside him, Hansol spits his drink back into his cup, having been listening in on their conversation. Apparently, that catches everyone’s attention. Seungkwan looks at Hansol with disgust but eventually joins the others in sending questioning looks their way.

“Sorry, what?” Seokmin asks, volleys his eyes between Soonyoung and Wonwoo. “ _He_ punched _you_?” At that, Wonwoo nods—so seriously that the others look at Soonyoung with unconcealed judgement. And possibly as payback for all the times Soonyoung had embarrassed him and because he lives to see Soonyoung suffer, Jihoon stage-whispers from Mingyu’s bracketing arms: “Wonwoo got sent to the hospital for stitches too.”

“It was in 3rdgrade!” Soonyoung says in defense when the others dramatically gasp. “And Wonwoo was being a dick!”

Jeonghan snorts. “How much of a dick can a 3rd grader get for you to send him to the hospital?”

“I wanted to be his friend but he was ignoring me like I was some sort of a plague!”

“I was a new student and three days in, he was already stealing food and crayons from me,” Wonwoo says in the most somber tone, and being shy be damned because it’s clear he’s getting a kick out of this. Jihoon’s trying not to die of laughter on the side. “He also said I looked stupid in my glasses.”

Scandalized, Seungkwan gasps, looking at Wonwoo up and down. “How dare you! He looks hot in glasses!” To Wonwoo, he says, “And I say that with respect, hyung.” Wonwoo laughs at that.

“I said he looked funny!” Soonyoung huffs, “not stupid! Also, it was in 3rd grade! He didn’t look as hot as he is now and—”

 _Ah_.

Fuck.

Rightfully, Soonyoung shuts his mouth, realizing what he had just said. He flounders for an excuse but everyone’s giving him a _look_ and all he can think of is that it’d be real convenient if he just dematerialized into nothing right then and there. His friends’ expressions shift from shock to realization to amusement and honestly, Soonyoung doesn’t even have it in him to look at Wonwoo’s reaction.

Breaking the silence, Minghao says—half-sage, half-pity, “Oh, hyung.”

“Alright, off to the kitchen, kids!” Seungcheol says suddenly, and Soonyoung knows he’d said that one time that he doesn’t have a favorite hyung but if he did, then it would probably be Seungcheol. “You’re littering chicken crumbs all over Soonyoung’s carpet and unless you want to stay behind to help clean then eat in the kitchen!”

Soonyoung sends a grateful look his way. Seungcheol responds with a two-fingered salute.

They all evacuate to the kitchen, of course. Mingyu has to drag Jihoon by the collar to the kitchen and Jihoon is too amused—a moment away from bursting into laughter as soon as the revelation sinks in—to even protest or put up a fight. That leaves—of course—Wonwoo and Soonyoung in the living room. All to their own devices with the most suffocating atmosphere ever until Wonwoo says so casually, with hands in his pockets: “So… you think I’m hot, huh?” And it’s all too much to handle that Soonyoung is surprised he’s still standing in one piece right then and there.

Maybe he needs Mingyu and Minghao’s spiked drinks, after all.

Thankfully, the torment only lasts for less than two minutes before Wonwoo is being pulled by Seungkwan to God knows where to properly meet some of the guys. Wonwoo sends him a look that probably means _help_ and maybe Soonyoung would’ve helped him and did all the talking for the both of them if Wonwoo wasn’t being a little shit earlier. But well, karma and all that.

Everyone gravitates back to the living room later in the night. By the time the party mix shifts from Seungkwan’s playlist to Korea’s Top 50 hits, Wonwoo has obviously become more comfortable around the others. Somehow, he and Wonwoo manage to make eye contact about three hundred times even when they’re talking to other people or participating in different conversations or in other sides of the room and Wonwoo always looks away with a secretive smile. It makes Soonyoung want to pull his hair out.

“I know Wonwoo’s shy but so far he’s been doing okay since Seungkwan whisked him away,” Jihoon says in the middle of their conversation when he catches Soonyoung looking across the room again. “You can stop your Wonwoo-hyperawareness now and just leave him be.”

Soonyoung refuses to be flustered. “I’m not being hyperaware.”

“Sure,” Jihoon says, nodding but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Okay, if that’s what you believe.”

“I’m not!” Soonyoung protests, and Jihoon just snorts behind his cup which—by the way—is soju-free because the whole Wonwoo thing was enough distraction for Mingyu and Minghao to forget going back out and buying drinks from the store. Soonyoung is only half disappointed. When he turns his head, it’s automatic, like his brain has been hardwired somehow in less than a week to look for someone he’s only seen now after sixteen years. He sees Wonwoo already looking and he smiles that secret smile again before looking away that has Soonyoung fighting back his own but to no avail—Jihoon snorts again. He sees Wonwoo briefly say something to Seungcheol and then make his way to where Soonyoung and Jihoon are.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says.

“Hi,” Wonwoo says back, smiling, then to Jihoon he says, “Rock-paper-scissors in the front lawn in two minutes. As a twist, instead of the losers, those who win have to stay with Soonyoung to clean up.”

Jihoon groans and sinks to the couch.

“Off you go, Jihoonie!” Soonyoung says, voice sickly saccharine because their friendship is just fifteen years of back and forth payback for being little shits to each other.

Jihoon tells him darkly, “I hate you.”

“Can’t say I feel the same,” Soonyoung grins, plastering himself all over Jihoon’s back when he finally stands up. Wonwoo laughs at their antics, trailing. “I only wish you good things and positivity and luck so you win in life—even in silly games like this one!”

Jihoon wins the game so Soonyoung believes that there is still hope in the world after all. Joshua, Hansol, and Seungkwan too. Naturally, Mingyu stays behind to wait for Jihoon and to help them clean up while he’s at it. Surprisingly, Wonwoo does too. Soonyoung spies Hansol and Seungkwan snickering like a pair of gossiping teenage girls at the corner and orders them to clean in the front lawn instead.

When they finish, they file outside to say their goodbyes one last time and Soonyoung pretends not to notice Wonwoo lingering inside, not yet wearing his coat.

“See you next time, hyung!” Seungkwan says, and his face is red like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing. “Don’t forget to bring Wonwoo-hyung back in one piece for Minghao’s birthday party next week—” Hansol slaps a hand to Seungkwan’s mouth but bites back a snicker himself, dragging Seungkwan to Joshua’s car.

Mingyu smiles at that, amused and all teeth. “My team still needs Wonwoo-hyung so please take care of him.” Jihoon doesn’t say anything beside him, social quota all used up, but he smiles despite himself, folding a sleeve.

Joshua, the only normal one in the group, says, “Good night, Soonyoung-ah. It’s great to have you back here.” Looking behind him, he tells Wonwoo, “It was nice meeting you, Wonwoo-yah.”

From his peripheral vision, Soonyoung sees Wonwoo give them a weak wave. “I hate you all,” Soonyoung tells them with a sweet smile. “Except for you Joshua-hyung. I love you.” He waves them all off and they disperse to their own cars. “Good night! Get home safe because I don’t actually hate you all and I need you all alive!”

He hears Wonwoo laugh behind him, and Soonyoung shuts his door, leaving them both inside. Realizing, he grabs the doorknob again just as Wonwoo says, voice even, “You know, you haven’t kissed me at all since we’ve met.”

Soonyoung closes the door again, shuts his eyes like he’s pained. “Why would you say that?”

He imagines Wonwoo’s smile. “Just pointing it out—”

When Soonyoung turns around, he surges up to kiss him, swallows the surprised _mmmf!_ that slips past Wonwoo’s lips—which parts immediately to accommodate Soonyoung’s tongue. They both sigh, and it sounds a little bit like _finally_ , as they move together. Hands finding purchase, Soonyoung’s back hitting the door with a soft thud. Soonyoung snakes his fingers to his neck, up to his hair. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s hands move under Soonyoung’s shirt to sit on the small of his back—warmth good and pressing and _just right_. Soonyoung tilts his head, teeth catching Wonwoo’s bottom lip. It’s reciprocal—the way they both move. Soonyoung bites on his lower lip; Wonwoo licks on his upper. Soonyoung pulls on his hair; Wonwoo presses on his skin a little bit tighter. A dance for two, and the music is in the way Wonwoo smiles against his lips. When Wonwoo does that thing with his tongue, touches it to the roof of Soonyoung’s mouth, Soonyoung groans—too loudly. And he forcefully pulls away, like it’s a realization.

“Stop, stop,” he pants, closing his eyes and moving his head away in an effort to control himself when Wonwoo dazedly chases after his mouth. His lips land on Soonyoung’s jaw instead. “Stop, Wonwoo-yah.” Soonyoung _absolutely_ does not whine. “Too good. Please. We need to stop.”

Wonwoo grins, and Soonyoung feels ache course through his entire body at the feeling of Wonwoo’s teeth against his skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Just—we need to stop,” Soonyoung says, voice hoarse. “I’m close to dragging you to my bedroom and locking you there.”

Wonwoo laughs but he does respectfully _and_ finally move away. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Shut up. It’s just.” Soonyoung closes his eyes. “I have a feeling I’m really, really, _really_ going to genuinely like you okay?” When he opens his eyes, Wonwoo’s smiling at him, hands still sitting on his waist, and it takes him all of his willpower not to kiss him right then and there. “And I want to do this right. And slow. I want to learn about you all over again and I want to take you out first.”

“Take me out like—on a date or with another punch like you did in 3rdgrade?”

“God.” Soonyoung laughs. “ _God_ , I’m 100% sure that I’m going to like you so much.”

“Are you saying you don’t like me now?” Wonwoo asks, joking.

“You know what I mean,” Soonyoung says softly, playfully bonking his forehead against Wonwoo’s. There’s two inches of distance between them that he does not breach. Closing his eyes, he says, “Sorry for punching you in the face.”

When Wonwoo grins, Soonyoung feels it. “Sorry for being a difficult dick.”

“Damn right you should be!” Soonyoung says, moving away to narrow his eyes at him. Wonwoo laughs, presses an off-centered kiss above his eye but pulls away instantly. “So, wine and dine first. Getting to know each other. Walking to the car. No kissing?” When Soonyoung opens his mouth to answer, Wonwoo adds with a condescending tone: “I really deserve a kiss, you know. After that stunt you pulled that sent me to the hospital.”

“Ugh, okay. One kiss as an apology.”

“You also still haven’t formally made up with me after that real-life nightmare gardening class with Ms. Na. It was my first failing grade ever, you know, and it tainted my grades for the rest of the school year.”

“You big baby.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips lift. “Fine. Two kisses.”

“Ah, and I made you wait for so long so you probably deserve one too.”

“You were only late for 30 minutes, dummy,” Soonyoung laughs softly, lightly pulling on Wonwoo’s ear, eliciting a smile from the other. “It wasn’t your fault you had a meeting and your phone died.”

When Wonwoo speaks, he says it so, so softly Soonyoung wouldn’t hear it if they weren’t standing so close. “I’m not talking about that.”

And— “ _Oh_.” When Soonyoung inhales, there seems to be not enough air in his lungs like he’s been sucker-punched. He laughs, feeling foolish fondness and hopefulness flutter together underneath his ribs. “Oh. Okay.”

“So.. three kisses in total?”

“Three kisses,” Soonyoung says, chest so, so full. “And more in the next few dates.”

Wonwoo laughs. “Okay.”

Soonyoung exhales, like it’s a miracle they’ve somehow found each other again. With a smile, they both move away and Soonyoung breathes, “Okay.”

(There’s a memory Soonyoung vividly remembers.

Picture this: last week of school, a rainy day in Maseok, Wonwoo and Soonyoung stuck in the corridors, and classes had just ended. Soonyoung’s got his Naruto umbrella out (which Wonwoo scoffed at the first time Soonyoung brought it to school because it was a well-known fact that Sasuke was cooler because he was mysterious and cold but honestly, _fuck_ boys who think they’re too high and mighty to ever talk to other people, right?). Wonwoo’s got nothing but a book on his hand too big for him to fit in his bag.

Wonwoo hasn’t responded to any of his jibes (“ _What were you saying about my Naruto umbrella again?”_ “ _How’s your Sasuke gonna save you now, huh?_ ” “ _Jeon Wonwoo’s going home in soaked uniform!”_ ) and it’s driving Soonyoung up the wall. For some strange, annoying reason Soonyoung has only pinpointed now, Soonyoung does three things: one, he sighs loudly like he’s tired and he has no choice; two, he hands Wonwoo—the bane of his existence, his number one enemy—his Naruto umbrella; and three, he runs into the rain without ever looking back.

Soonyoung does a fourth thing which he keeps to himself as a secret. Running through the rain that day, he thinks: _we would’ve been good friends, Wonwoo-yah_.)

**Author's Note:**

> 01/14/21 update:
> 
> hello it’s the author hehe.... since the conception of this fic i’ve always felt lukewarm about it although the reception has been anything but. i really want to delete this but the comments in this one have been too nice. tysm for reading!!!! officially orphaning this fic starting today


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